


A Letter

by bluebirdfiction



Category: American (US) Actor RPF, Call Me By Your Name (2017), French Actor RPF
Genre: Angst, Cheesy, Engagement, F/M, Long-Distance Relationship, Long-Term Relationship(s), Marriage Proposal, Regret, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21713902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebirdfiction/pseuds/bluebirdfiction
Summary: A handwritten letter sent to Timmy from his longtime girlfriend, who is a model. She is in New York while he is overseas in Australia for several months, shooting a film. He proposed to her before he left, but she didn't give him a definitive answer.(I'm so sorry but this is very cheesy and over the top!!!)
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 12





	A Letter

Tim - 

I’m writing to you to make a confession. I regret the way we left things. I miss you, more than I thought I could. I’m thinking of you now, your smell, your voice, how your skin glows almost white in the nighttime, the shadow on your upper lip come morning, the way you call me “chérie” when I’m pissing you off.

Remember the first day we met? I’d been seeing you everywhere, posters, movies, the internet, wondering what you were like in real life. When I saw you in the flesh I couldn’t quite believe it, but at the same time, I knew what would happen. I can still recall the way you said my name for the first time, squeezed my hand by way of goodbye when someone whisked you off. I used to dread parties like that. I always felt ugly and awkward when the cameras flashed. I felt like an impostor.

It’s different now. We show up separately sometimes, but they’ll catch moments between us on camera, when we’re standing in some back corner and think no one is watching. And then you usually turn to the cameras, and laugh, and make a funny face. You’re never angry like I am, you just shake it off, remind me it’s part of the lives we’ve chosen.

Haider still feels like a king today, I know it, for bringing his muses together, male and female, for helping us find each other, engineering the whole situation. We’d never even spoken about you, but I guess he must have seen something in me that he thought you’d like. I can’t imagine what it was. I was so shy back then.

I’m thinking of our first apartment too, more specifically the time you thought you could fix the sink and almost flooded the whole place. I only agreed to live three blocks away from your parents because your dad has an excellent taste in books and I loved the chance to raid his personal library whenever the mood struck. Also because he was a far better plumber than you. 

Now I’m sprawled across the bed here, apartment number four, five years on, trying to take up the whole thing with my limbs because it means your side is no longer empty. I miss you. All day long, no matter where I am. I always want to come home and tell you about all the crazy outfits people downtown were wearing that day, or about meeting your fans and seeing their disappointed faces when you are not close behind. I actually almost cried a few times when they kept shouting your name, devastated they’d missed their chance. It hurts that so many people want you, because I want you too, and in that moment, I am just like them. I can’t have you.

I’m proud of you though. Even if this next one’s a bust, I’ll still be proud of you, because I know you will have given it everything. I can still run through most of your lines in my head, we practiced them so many times. I loved sitting in your trailer upstate while you shot the last one, waiting for lunchtime, to surprise you before I had to run off again to a fitting or meeting or photoshoot I didn’t want to go to.

You wouldn’t let me leave, remember? You’d kiss me and then kiss me again while I tried to free myself, and then you’d joke that you’d die of boredom while I was gone, that you’d be lost without me. You’re never actually bored, though, that’s what I love about you. Are you lost without me now? I can’t imagine so. I’ve been wandering the city like a ghost these days. Now that you’re gone there seems to be so much time for things, most of which I have no interest in.

I think it’s time for you to come back now. Australia has had you long enough, you and your talking hands and the tiny scar on your cheek and the way you still blush when I tell you that you look good and your superhuman ability to know the exact moment when I am sick of something and want to go home.

I know I’ve told you that I never loved any man before you, but I want you to be sure of it. I’ve loved you through terrible haircuts, through weeks where I was booked and you were lonely and loved to hurt my feelings, through dinners with people who wanted to steal your light instead of adding to it, through vacations with your family where we fought every day. First I loved you because I had no choice, because you pulled me into your world with an iron grip without knowing you were doing so. Then I loved you because I chose you, even though I could have chosen a million easier lives than this one.

Those that came before you only left me feeling tired and dirty and like they’d dissolve in my fingers the second they realized I was more than a pretty face with a quick wit and a sharp tongue. You never did anything I expected. I won’t forget when you cancelled that audition you really wanted only to watch me open for Valentino last summer. I still don’t know why you came. It wasn’t my first time opening, but this time I was wearing a dress so sheer that nearly everything was on display. I felt everyone’s eyes on me, but then I reached the end of the runway and saw you beaming up at me, and I wasn’t wearing the clothes, I was wearing you, wearing the sex in your eyes and your pride at seeing your person in the spotlight.

You’d cheer for me in public, talk about my success in interviews all the time when we were younger, even when I asked you to stop, because I felt embarrassed, inadequate even, standing next to someone like you. I’m sure you don’t actually believe me, but it’s true. I’d spent years being sad and foolish and aimless until I had you standing in my corner, telling me to keep moving.

Now that we’re older I realize how much those years changed me, and I’m glad you haven’t forgotten any of it. Sometimes you still embarrass me, I won’t lie. But I feel more like I belong. I doubt we’d have become anything as good as this without each other.

I know I wanted more time when you asked me, wanted you to think things over, but I think I’m ready now. I know I am. I just wanted you to be sure. Other girls are smart and beautiful and strong souls just like me. Part of me thought you might find someone better and regret this. It’s gaining on me now that I’ve been silly, that you’d never do this without really wanting to. I’m giving in because I’d be lying if I said I’d never dreamed of this. It’s been on my mind forever, longer than I care to admit.

I’m saying yes. I’ve been staring at the ring all month, pulling it out of my bedside drawer to watch it sparkle in the sunlight, turning it over in my hands. I’ll try it on for you when you get here. Maybe I’ll have you do the whole thing over, slide it on my finger, the whole nine yards.

Time has finally slowed to a crawl, like the hours are struggling to make themselves pass, and I am lying here, ignoring everything else, waiting for you.

Je suis à toi. Come home.


End file.
